"I'm not tired."

"Really?  Because you look like you're ready to collapse."

"I'm just -- I have some things on my mind."

"Such as?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me or don't want to tell me?"

"Both."

*

I know there are things Josh can't tell me.  My security clearance is more than respectable; it has to be if I'm going to do an effective job as Josh's assistant.  I'm in the loop, frankly, more than any of the support staff except for Margaret.  And Mrs. Landingham, of course.  Still, on any given day, there are at least a dozen things Josh deals with that he isn't free to share.  Most of the time, I don't give that a second thought.  Not even when he broods.

This is beyond brooding, however.  This is -- I don't know how to describe it.  This is desperation and panic and a certain amount of fatalism.  Something bad is going to happen, and Josh is convinced that he's powerless to stop it.

It's the powerless part that scares me.

Josh exudes this aura of confidence -- the swagger, the smirk, it's all connected to this self-assurance that is one of his sexier attributes.  He's smart, he knows it, and he doesn't try to hide it.  You have no idea what a turn-on that is.

So when Josh acts as though this undefined crisis is looming over us and there's nothing he can do to control it, I feel as though the world has shifted on its axis.  Everything's off balance.  Nothing quite makes sense anymore.

I bet a normal fiancée would ask him about it.  A normal fiancée would push him to tell her what's going on.  Not that it would do any good.  And I've been his assistant a lot longer than I've been his fiancée, so I know that the rules about what he can and can't tell me are inflexible.

But here's the thing:  When you think about the sort of information that the Deputy Chief of Staff is privy to but can't pass along to either his assistant or his fiancée, it's ominous to say the least.

I don't think either one of us is going to be sleeping tonight.

*

"No."

"No?  You're turning down a perfectly good opportunity to have sex with me?"

"I don't -- I have these things on my mind, Donna."

"My mother was right, after all.  Who knew?"

"Right about what?"

"Never trust a politician... Josh?  Okay, this hysterical laughter thing you've got going there?  It's scaring me."

"Maybe your mother is right.  Maybe there are no honest politicians."

"Are too.  I know lots of honest politicians."

"Name one."

"You.  Also President Bartlet.  Leo.  Okay, Josh, that laughing thing has got to stop."

*

So I'm thinking it's something political.  This is, in fact, a load off my mind.  National security matters -- that's too frightening to imagine.  Politics, on the other hand -- how bad can it be?

Bad enough to freak Josh out.  This is above and beyond his usual brooding.  This is like something fundamental has been torn out from under him.

He's in this state between hysteria and resignation.  If I knew what was wrong, I could help.  But I don't know, and I have no idea what he needs from me.

*

"I thought -- I really thought this was our chance.  I thought we were going to do things in these four years.  Make people's lives better.  I thought this would be something extraordinary."

"It is.  We're doing things."

"No, Donna, we're not.  We're spinning our wheels.  We're waiting for a second term.  We're trying not to alienate anyone whose vote we'll need next year."

"We got Mendoza on the Court.  We've done other things."

"We passed up big things.  We could have taken a stand on the Defense of Marriage Act, for one thing.  I sat in Leo's office and I told the President not to veto it.  I did that because I was worried about re-election.  God, I was worried about re-election."

*

I've been looking forward to re-election.  It will be like when Josh and I first met, only with sex.  Now Josh is talking like -- but that's ridiculous.  Everybody's been talking about re-election.  Nothing's been declared, but we've all been speculating about who we'll run against and how difficult it will be.  Last week, Josh and I were talking about whether we should start a family before or after the campaign.  The idea of not running -- that's just ridiculous.

Isn't it?

*

"Josh."

"Go back to bed, Donna."

"No, it's more fun to sit out here and brood with you."

"Go to bed."

"Really.  Getting a couple of hours' sleep or sitting in the dark worrying about some nameless something?  Easy choice."

"Just go to bed."

"Whatever it is, Josh, we'll get through it."

"...Donna?"

"You want to stop so stop some perfectly good kissing to talk?  You're a strange man, Joshua Lyman."

"I never lied to you, Donna."

"I know that."

"Not knowingly anyway."

"That goes without saying."

"Still."

"You'd never lie to me, Josh.  I would never even consider the possibility."

*

Say what you want about politicians, about their being dishonest and ruthless in order to get what they want.  I'll even grant you the ruthless; Josh has that streak in him, but it only comes out when he believes in something deeply.  Like the two of us being together.  Or getting Josiah Bartlet elected.  Pure, noble things like that.

And he's honest, my Joshua.  A thoroughly honest, decent man.

Besides, he's a terrible liar.  His forehead does that crinkly thing, and he occasionally stammers.

And anyway I think he knows -- the day he learns to lie like a stereotypical politician is the day I walk out.

*

"What would you have done if I'd said no that first day in Manchester?"

"No to what?"

"To you.  To the ridiculous idea of hiring you."

"You weren't going to say no."

"But if I had."

"I wouldn't have accepted it.  You clearly needed me."

"But if I had, what would you have done?  Gone back to your freeloading boyfriend and your crazy-ass Republican family?"

"God, no.  I would have tried my luck with CJ, I suppose."

"You should have gone home.  I should have said no.  I should never have dragged you into this."

"At the risk of inflating your ego, I'm awfully glad you did.  Besides the fact that I fell in love with you on that campaign, in my own small way I had a hand in getting President Bartlet elected.  That is not an insignificant thing."

"No.  No, it's not insignificant."

*

My whole life, I never did anything significant.  When I joined the campaign, my self-image was at an all time low.  I was coming out of this disastrous relationship; my parents and my sister consistently told me how many things I was doing wrong with my life.  And then I made this incredibly impulsive decision, driving from Wisconsin to New Hampshire to volunteer to work for this presidential candidate who didn't stand a chance.  The amazing thing, looking back on it, wasn't that Governor Bartlet won and it wasn't even that Josh hired me.  The truly amazing thing was that Josh and CJ and Toby and Sam and Leo and the Bartlets trusted me and let me be a real part of the campaign.  Everything good in my life now comes directly out of that campaign.

*

"You were around the whole time during the campaign.  Dear God, I hadn't even thought about that.  They'll try to subpoena you if they realize."

"Realize what?"

"That you were in a position to see the kind of things you saw."

"I never really saw much of anything.  I was too focused on you."

*

Josh was a sight to behold during the campaign.  Looking back on it, the only thing that surprises me is that it took so long for me to realize I loved him.  But it was addictive, watching him all excited and passionate and getting to be a little part of helping him do this huge, wonderful thing.  He's this strange mix of idealism and pragmatism, Josh is.  And there was a sense -- not just with Josh, but with all of us on the campaign -- that we were doing something incredible getting Governor Bartlet elected.  I can't wait to do that again.

*

"When you started working for me during the campaign, you said something--"

"I said many things.  You promised to commit them to memory."

"I really didn't."

"Nonverbally.  When you handed me your ID badge, you were saying, 'I understand the importance of this moment, and I will commit every scintillating word you just said to memory.'"

"That's what I said nonverbally?  What did you say?"

"'You don't deserve me, but I'll stick around anyway.'"

"That sounds like you.  But you said something about an incident with the President.  He almost fainted or something?"

"Oh, right.  It was while you were in Connecticut, bombarding us all with hourly telegrams about things you shouldn't have been worrying about."

"And what happened?"

"We were walking outside.  And the President was telling me this really fascinating story about the history of the Pyramids."

"The history of the Pyramids?"

"It came up in conversation."

"You and Jed Bartlet having a conversation.  Yes, I can see where it would."

"Then all of a sudden he sort of stopped and he sat down real suddenly like he was going to pass out.  It was freaky.  I mean, I had visions of being alone with the next presidential nominee when he collapsed."

"He collapsed?"

"Well, no, but he said later that he'd felt faint because he hadn't eaten that morning.  Which I remember thinking was kind of weird because I'd seen him a couple of hours earlier scarfing down some stuff Mrs. Landingham brought him.  I was a little worried, so I told Dr. Bartlet about it that afternoon."

"What did she say?"

"She told me it was nothing and not to worry about it."

"Oh, God.  Did you ever tell anybody else about this besides me and the First Lady?"

"Mrs. Landingham, I think.  Why are you asking me about this now, Josh?"

"It could be important."

*

People talked to me during the campaign like I was an equal.  I had gotten so used to Alan and Frances and my parents talking down to me that it amazed me at first when people would listen to my opinion.  Even President -- Well, Governor Bartlet then -- this man who had a Nobel Prize would talk to me as seriously as he would to Josh or Leo.  I remember wondering if anyone had bothered to tell him that I was just some college dropout Josh had hired out of pity.  I kept waiting for someone to tell me that my opinion didn't count.  But no one did, although Mandy Hampton did throw a few dirty looks my way.

Except for the fact that I was oblivious as to why Mandy Hampton was throwing dirty looks my way, life was perfect.

*

"We should maybe change our plans."

"You don't want to go to Connecticut for Mother's Day?"

"Our plans for the summer."

"The only plans we have for the summer are about getting married."

"Yeah.  Those plans."

"August, Josh.  That's non-negotiable.  We are not getting married sooner."

"I was actually thinking we should postpone the wedding."

"Until when?"

"I don't know.  But I don't want you to -- I could be in some trouble, and I don't want you near that."

*

We've argued the matter for more than an hour now.  This undefined "trouble" that Josh is in -- which is obviously tied in to the President and to re-election in some way I don't understand -- is serious enough that he wants to protect me from it.  I admire the sentiment; I completely get that this is Josh trying to noble and protect the woman he loves.  But I don't need to be protected, and I have no intention of running away while Josh faces whatever it is he thinks is going to happen.  I can tell that this is going to be a problem when we're married -- which, by the way, we are doing in August.  We can both being extremely stubborn people, and neither one of us is inclined to back down in a fight.

I shudder to think what our children will turn out like.

*

"You're fired."

"Impervious."

"Seriously, Donna, you should quit."

"Seriously, Josh, I am quitting. In one more month."

"Quit now.  I want you out of the office by the end of the week."

"Why do we suddenly have to rush this?"

"Because I don't want you involved in this thing.  I'll tell Leo you gave me notice weeks ago."

"Technically, I did."

"You have some vacation time, don't you?  You could take that and go stay with your parents until you start Georgetown in the fall."

"You're trying to send me off to live with Republicans?  Okay, now you're officially freaking me out."

*

This is not like him.  Okay, so something's going on and apparently it's pretty bad.  But it's like he thinks that the way it will turn out is a foregone conclusion, that there's nothing we can do to prevent it and so he has to send me away to keep me safe.  This is not what Josh does.  Josh fights.  He figures out all the angles; he's five steps ahead of the opposition.  He doesn't give up like this.

Why is he giving up like this?

*

"You should sleep, you know."

"I have to get up in an hour anyway."

"You don't.  There's nothing on your schedule until 8 a.m."

"I have a meeting with Oliver Babish at 6."

"Since when?"

"I just found out about it tonight.  I may be talking to him for a while.  You'll have to reschedule some things."

"Josh--"

"I can't tell you.  And you really should quit."

*

I was supposed to start interviewing candidates for my job next week.  I'm thinking maybe I'll postpone that now.  I've waited this long to finish college; I can wait longer.  Whatever this is, if it involves the President and re-election and the White House Counsel, it must be serious.  And Josh is right in the middle of it.  I'm not running off to college at a time like this.  I'm staying right in the office where I can look after him.  Because this is my thing: I'm not that pathetic college dropout who wandered into Josh's office three years ago.  Okay, I have a tendency to babble and I occasionally obsess over relatively minor things, but I'm smart and capable and people like Leo and Josh and even President Bartlet have been known to take me seriously on occasion.  Whatever is going on, I can help Josh more by running the office than by going to school or running back to my parents.

I'm not leaving Josh's side until this thing, whatever it may be, is over.

He'll simply have to learn to live with that.

THE END

05.07.01